


On The Steps Of Alexandria

by Floweringfatigue (Jimmikins)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Asexual!Enjolras, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, drunkard!grantaire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 22:27:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5843326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jimmikins/pseuds/Floweringfatigue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexandrian AU; Scholar Enjolras stumbles(literally) over the cities wittiest drunkard on the steps of the Great library. Fluff, possible angst; read notes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On The Steps Of Alexandria

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: In this work, I did some research (not enough, I think). In this, I've made Gaul out to be much more like modern (or mid 19th century) France. There are probably many inaccuracies; especially with the social attitudes I've portrayed. If any of them are too astounding to ignore, please let me know in the comments and I'll attempt to amend them. I've attempted to keep as much canonical character as possible in these characters while portraying them in a time much different from their own. This one ends quite abruptly; I apologise.

   It was a bright day when they met. Well, less met and more...collided. And less bright in the since that the sun was present, and more in the sense of brilliance. There comes a time, for the very lucky and the very few, that the universe decides that two souls must- irrevocably must- come together, no matter how; no matter why, even.

   Enjolras was known by many; spoken of and to by many. He had many names in his home of Gaul*; but his names here, in his new residence of Alexandria, were plentiful: Enjol the shining, Enjol the wise, Enjol the Scholarly, Enjol the Celibate. He came to Athens to learn under the many great minds of Greece when a Greek settlement came to Gaul; they attempted to enamor him with tales of luxury and of science, but he truly came to listen to the Philosophers. Wise words lit a light inside him, one that made his skin glow and his eyes shimmer- according to his fans, at least. Enjolras craved deep thought more than all else; he even abstained from pleasures of the flesh, for he had no interest. He found it all quite superficial, with nothing to learn from it, and it was worthless to him. His favourite thoughts were those that pondered heaven, the spiritual and whatever is beyond the stars.

   Once he came to Athens, he learned many things, and studied the customs of the Greeks- so very different from his homeland- and then was drawn to travel to Alexandria, to study under Ptolemy and experience the Great library.* Hour after hour would he sit, until his backside ached and his candle burned to nothing; there was so much to study and to learn. The movements of the heavenly bodies, the stars; he read about the Gods and how they were present in daily life. He took up praying and sacrificing to certain Gods, while still practicing his homes' religion. He wrote papers and conversed with Ptolemy and Plutarch themselves, when they were present; and he was respected by many, who called him the Gaul of Alexandria.

   It was one day, after one of these infamous conversations (which were intensely copied down by many students when they happened) which Enjolras, looking back, could never recall the subject of (as it turns out, it was quite about the moon and its craterous surface being skeevingly peculiar) that he was walking down the steps of the great library itself. Many people stood there, or were lain about; reading, conversing lazily or heatedly. He had a stack of poetry books under his arm, as well as a stack of his own writing; it was his interest as of late. On the fifth step down, he fell, as his foot caught under the arm of a man lying on the step. His ankle twisted as he fell- it was dramatic, really, with papers flying from under his arm- and was caught in a ladies embrace, saving him from being seriously injured. He felt the breath leave her as he landed against her bosom, and immediately fell back away from her in his excitement. He hadn't been touched, or embraced, by anyone other than his 'brothers' (his colleagues at the library). He thanked her for helping him, and turned back to see what had tripped him.

   It was a man. An inebriated man; who had oily, dark hair that lay over his face like some kind of ghoulish shawl. He shuddered when his eyes fell over him. His wrinkled clothing; his hands were bloodied at the knuckles. Enjolras was tall and slender, with formfitted clothes standard in the modern style of Gaul, that easily set him apart from the Egyptians and the Greeks surrounding him. His hair fell in a loose curl to his shoulders, but it was clean, and shone golden blonde. This fellow- this peculiar fellow, was decrepit in comparison to Enjolras- but he was dressed in the same fashion, down to his shoes.

   After he'd gathered his books and papers, he knelt down at his side (with his ankle aching and throbbing) and touched his shoulder- his clothes were much too loose for him- and spoke quietly. " _Hello, are you alright?_ " Enjolras asked him; he spoke in Gallic in the stead of the more common Latin. " _I'm afraid I tripped over you. You mustn't sleep here. What is your name?_ " The mans eyes opened very slowly, for the man who slumbers so deeply from drink that another fellow falling over him can't awake him comes to consciousness leisurely. He had heard Enjolras' words, however, and squinted at him in confusion, before he struggled to upright himself. From this distance, he smelt the rich scent of wine on his breath.

   " _You are from Gaul?_ " Was his response, disregarding the questions; but with a small up turning of the corner of his lips. _"How rare. How rare. Perhaps the only other Gaul in Alexandria, manages to trip over me._ "

 _"You speak clearly, and with surprising articulation, for a man with so much wine in his stomach."_ Enjolras continues. He had, obviously, some form of good breeding; or education. It refreshed his spirit to speak Gallic and for someone to understand; his words rolled off his tongue with a familiarity he hadn't felt in two years. This was obviously not the standard, poor drunkard. The man simply shrugged, leaning against the step behind him with a soft sigh. Enjolras doubted the full effect of the wine was upon him- he was much too composed. His eyes were dark, and the bags underneath them even darker against the stark white of his skin- though tanner than his own. The black stubble covered his chin and neck like a meadow of the shortest, wiry flowers; Enjolras' had some of his own. He often forgot to shave (which was fashionable at the time) due to his studies.

   " _It's Grantaire. My name,"_ he said, after several moments of silence between them- in which they simply took visual study of each other. _"I know you. All the ladies speak about you, and its easy to see why. You're Enjol_." His smile was still there; it was brilliant, though it showed two missing teeth.

   " _Enjolras, to be complete_." he said, finally collapsing down against the step under him with a soft grunt. His ankle had finally given way. He noticed some students wandering around them, shooting them odd glances now and then. " _I need to get home, to bandage and brace my ankle_ ," he murmured. " _Do you need a place to sleep_?" Grantaire gave him a singular, peculiar look- one of both skepticism and excitement.

   " _Yes, in fact. My Latin is not so good, so it's been hard to find one. And inns don't like to take charm or wit for currency in these parts."_


End file.
